Fine Art Photography. Film. Poetry. Dreams, Memories & Uncanny stills

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Two bodies wrapped in an embrace in a tomb of glitter and frost the blood lingers while they kiss, then it pours gently down the legs of the cradle surrounded by mist. The lake of tears reflects the moon of sorrow trembling, fluid, unpredictable; their red eyes locked, unblinking, while eternity replaces the

Quiet and frozen A reflection approaches within the glass I seek meaning in a meaningless palace of empty eyes and half-hearted smiles Statues of philosophers vis-à-vis- I stare them down From expresionless to sad, their face changes mood: they empathise. Neither pain nor pleasure felt My mindless mind projects conflicting eyes filling

A silhouette merging with the unknown- all that is left is your breath in the cold air as you exhale in slow motion I speak in shadows, you respond with specters of light, haunting every word- making sense of it all; I choose to live in the now, but if

She was standing by the window, her face seemingly puzzled by the familiar noise of trains rushing incessantly and birds making harpy-like sounds. It was really taking her back. Back to the days when she made connections between the number of the floor she was living on and the corresponding

the fragile body and soul now shine with a different light and cast a different shadow: the light of god, the shadow of Lucifer. – Distracted by my flame, I spilled some water in that little cavity between you and me. Your presence turned it into ice, I stepped towards

You said to yourself that it was too cold and that was why you could barely function. It was either that, or the weeks-long stagnation of the spirit. You tell yourself you are going to get it right once and for all: have your own house with decorations that are most in